The Stormcloak Queen - A skyrim Fanfiction

[30] Elf ears

"Now hurry up!" I laughed as I pulled Ulfirc out of the war room and dragged him quickly through the dwindling crowd in the hall.

I burst through the large palace doors and we spilled out onto the old weathered steps that looked as if they had been lightly frosted due to the swirling, dancing, falling snow.

It was freezing.

I tugged the fur mantle on my armour snug around my neck and steeled myself against the weather of my homeland as I focused on the task at hand, getting the great bear drunk.

Thankfully, Ulfirc was smart and had the tavern near his palace. I was working on moving the tavern up to the cloud district so it wasn't such a fucking walk. I was doing far too much walking about whiterun lately. Alternatively I was considering moving into breezhome because nobody gave me judging looks when I went for the third bottle of mead when I lived there.

"We should get out of this cold before we freeze to death and do the imperials work for them." Ulfirc grumbled and although I whole heartedly agreed with him, I whole heartedly had to disagree with him because that's how it works.
"I thought a son of skyrim didn't feel the cold?" I laughed, elbowing him in the ribs, or should I say muscle?
"Only an idiot claims not to feel this cold." He laughed, gruff and gravelly before he grabbed my wrist, engulfing it in his large hand and pulling me towards Candleharth hall.

Stepping into the tavern was like stepping into a warm familial embrace. The thick scent of honeyed mead, freshly baked bread and simmering stew tickled my nostrils while the din of the patrons, the melodic strumming and over zealous singing of a bard flooded my ears.

Arriving anywhere in Skyrim with Ulfirc was, as I and learned, completely different form anything. Sure I was a Jarl and sure I was the dragonborn but Ulfric was the leader of the rebellion, the killer of kings and in any sensible pair of eyes our next High King. This was also his hold and the people here bore a great love for the Stormcloak family and who could blame them? I was amongst one of his many admirers. If the great bear asked for my life I'd gladly hand it to him.

The owner suddenly jumped into a frenzied tiz, noting her notorious guest and flapping over to him. I merely stood with one hand on the clasp of my furs and the other gently resting on my warhammer as a standing threat to any who wished us ill will. I doubt there were many but one always has to be careful.

Ulfirc brushed off the woman with a kind smile, an order for drink and a quick blessing of telos before becoming for me to follow him up the stairs to the attic.

A hush briefly swept over the room like fog on a marsh before dissipating and leaving in its wake an bigger noise. The bard even rushed into a zealous rendition of the age of oppression.

"So you brought me here, now what?"
"Now we get pissed."

"No, I swear on the mighty talos." I giggled, reaching down to take a swig out of my bottle only to find that it was empty. Still, I smacked it a few times to coax the last few drops of the the sweet, thick honied liquid onto my tongue.
"Whiterun is more adventurous than I thought." Ulfric mused, looking down into his mug. "Empty." He huffed, knocking it with his hand and it clattered across the hard wood of the table.

We'd been here for hours at this point, holed up in the back corner of the tavern. It was more lively than the palace of the kings, with the slightly off tune singing of the bard to keep us company rather than the awkward stares of the guards. The tavern was an equaliser, where the people of the city felt comfortable coming up to their Jarl, their king I suppose too, and clapping him on the back and offering to buy him a drink. He'd turn them all away though, he said it didn't feel right for a Jarl to enjoy a night on the coin of his people, it should be the other way around, so Ulfric bought round after round for the tavern and grinned devilishly each time the people cheered at his generosity.